Wild Card

By Megan Slayer

Following his heart and passion will be his biggest role of all.

Kris Hunter wants out. He's done pornographic films for the last six years. The pay's been good, but his creativity is nearly dead. His passion is to act and to be a star on the big screen in mainstream films. When he auditions for famed casting director, Zayn Mason, he's convinced he's on the right path. He doesn't want to take the casting couch route to success, but he certainly wants Zayn in his bed. Can he follow his dreams and the man he desires or will forces beyond his control derail his progress?

Zayn Mason sees the potential in Kris. As a casting director, he looks for the right actor to fill the roles in movies. He's seen plenty of talent come and go, but no one stirs his soul both creatively and physically like Kris. But Zayn knows the pitfalls of the movie industry. Crossing over from porn isn't easy and Hollywood isn't always forgiving. Besides, he's got demons of his own. Can these men get beyond their pasts and find a future together under the bright lights of the silver screen?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Pride Publishing
• Release date: Apr 12, 2016
• ISBN: 9781786514004

Megan Slayer

Megan Slayer, aka Wendi Zwaduk, is a multi-published, award-winning author of more than one-hundred short stories and novels. She’s been writing since 2008 and published since 2009. Her stories range from the contemporary and paranormal to LGBTQ and BDSM themes. No matter what the length, her works are always hot, but with a lot of heart. She enjoys giving her characters a second chance at love, no matter what the form. She’s been the runner up in the Kink Category at Love Romances Café as well as nominated at the LRC for best author, best contemporary, best ménage and best anthology. Her books have made it to the bestseller lists on Amazon.com. When she’s not writing, Megan spends time with her husband and son as well as three dogs and three cats. She enjoys art, music and racing, but football is her sport of choice.

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Wild Card

ISBN # 978-1-78651-400-4

©Copyright Megan Slayer 2016

Cover Art by Posh Gosh ©Copyright March 2016

Edited by Sue Meadows

Pride Publishing

This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Pride Publishing.

Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Pride Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.

The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.

Published in 2016 by Pride Publishing, Newland House, The Point, Weaver Road, Lincoln, LN6 3QN

Pride Publishing is a subsidiary of Totally Entwined Group Limited.

What’s his Passion?

WILD CARD

Megan Slayer

Watch the Video

Of WILD CARD

Following his heart and passion will be his biggest role of all.

Kris Hunter wants out. He’s done pornographic films for the last six years. The pay’s been good, but his creativity is nearly dead. His passion is to act and to be a star on the big screen in mainstream films. When he auditions for famed casting director, Zayn Mason, he’s convinced he’s on the right path. He doesn’t want to take the casting couch route to success, but he certainly wants Zayn in his bed. Can he follow his dreams and the man he desires or will forces beyond his control derail his progress?

Zayn Mason sees the potential in Kris. As a casting director, he looks for the right actor to fill the roles in movies. He’s seen plenty of talent come and go, but no one stirs his soul both creatively and physically like Kris. But Zayn knows the pitfalls of the movie industry. Crossing over from porn isn’t easy and Hollywood isn’t always forgiving. Besides, he’s got demons of his own. Can these men get beyond their pasts and find a future together under the bright lights of the silver screen?

Dedication

For CD who told me not to give up.

For SM because you’re awesome.

For JPZ—you’re my wild card.

Trademarks Acknowledgement

The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

Jaguar: Tata Motors

Superman: DC Comics, Inc.

Chapter One

Just a few more movies and he’d be done. Kris Hunter curled the pages of the script in both hands. A dull ache started behind his eyes. He’d become popular in the adult film industry but desperately wanted to get out. Starring in porn paid the bills, but didn’t soothe his primal need to create. Shouting ‘take that cock up your ass now’ got old after a while.

He raked his fingers through his hair and read through his lines again. There wasn’t much to the script. A few lines about getting to know his playmate, then naked time. God. He’d been asked to star in another first experience flick. He should’ve known better.

If he wanted to get out of the business, he’d have to star in a few more films and bank up the rest of the money he needed. Time to get his head into the game.

It’s your first time? A sexy man like you? Can’t be.

Kris nodded. He needed to get into the headspace of a guy who wanted to hook up with a younger man. Gag. At twenty-seven, he wasn’t that fucking old. Still, he needed the money to fund his dream. He formed an image of his costar in his mind. Although he wasn’t attracted to the other performer, Kris did his best to act the part.

That’s right, Kris murmured. You know how to kiss.

His costar, Garig Ross, strode into the living room. Are you actually practicing your lines?

Kris opened his eyes. He hadn’t realized he’d closed them. Go fuck yourself.

Now that’s not the way to entice me to want to be fucked by you. Garig shrugged out of his street clothes. Unlike Kris, Garig seemed to love being nude. He folded his jeans and tucked his things into his duffle bag. You’re supposed to make me at least kind of want to be with you.

"I don’t want to be here or with you. Kris dropped the script onto his bag. I’m tired of these movies."

So? Garig shook out the ripped denim. He waved the jeans around. This won’t cover my ass.

That’s the point. You’re supposed to look young, interested, and green as hell but ready to take a seven-inch cock up your tight ass. Kris rolled his eyes. You’re young, but you are no virgin.

Don’t you know it. Garig stepped into the jeans, then slid his cowboy boots back on. He admired his ass in the mirror. Papa likes what he sees.

If Kris had been on the prowl for a date and wasn’t picky, he might have hooked up with Garig for real. The guy was handsome. From his perfectly styled hair combed to appear as if he’d rolled straight out of bed, down his chiseled body to his sculpted legs, he personified sexy. Most guys wanted to fuck him—except Kris.

He’d made fifteen flicks with Garig. None of them endeared Garig to him. The guy might be hot, but he was also a hot mess. He dropped his pants for everyone and God only knew if he was careful.

We’re going to do this thing. Garig wriggled into the vest. His pierced nipples glinted in the light. What are you saving all that money for?

Nothing. Kris glanced in the mirror and slicked his hair back. He never wore his hair forward in the films. The combed-back style made him feel like the character rather than himself. Maybe that was crazy, but he preferred having the bit of separation.

He tucked his wallet, keys and phone into his bag, then stripped down to his running pants and the tank top. According to the script, he was supposed to start out on his balcony. Garig would be on the balcony next door, flirting.

He closed his eyes again. Three more films and he’d have enough money. A momentary vision popped into his brain. He didn’t want to be in front of the camera without his clothes. He’d be making actual movies with plots and good actors. Even if he had to fund the damn thing himself, he was going to be a real actor in a real movie. He opened his eyes. Get the film done and move forward.

All right. Let’s go, the director said. He pointed to Kris. Your condoms and lube are beside the bed.

You’d make so much more money if you’d just do these bare. Garig shrugged. I’m raking it in.

I’m fine with what I’m doing. At least when they worked, he knew he was safe. Kris made his way through the bedroom and stopped on the balcony.

You’re going to chat him up. Stick to the script if you want, but you have to say he’s a hot piece of ass and you want to do him, the director said. He clapped Kris on the shoulder. Just make it sound intelligent and like you really want him.

God. Kris stood on the balcony and gripped the railing. Three years before, he’d have considered throwing himself over the edge. Too many demons remained with him. He shook off the black feelings and focused on the job at hand.

Ready? Action. The director pointed to him. The camera clicked.

Time to shine. Kris gripped the railing again and stared at the city below. The palm trees waved in the slight breeze. Cars zipped down the street.

There is nothing happening in this city. He sighed. Nothing.

Garig appeared on his own balcony. I don’t know about that.

Oh? Kris leaned against his railing. You’re new.

I am, and in more ways than you know. Garig grinned. Where’s your boyfriend?

Ah. They weren’t following the script at all. Kris folded his hands. I’m single. You?

Ready to mingle, Garig replied. Let me come over.

The door is open. Kris nodded toward the other side of the apartment. Let yourself in.

Cut, the director shouted. Reset. Good take.

Kris groaned. He knew what to do next. Hell, he’d been a professional in the adult world since he’d turned twenty-one, six years ago. But he wanted more out of life. Unfortunately, life didn’t want him to graduate beyond the blow jobs and anal sex on camera. He thought back to his high school career. He’d nailed the Shakespeare plays and the dippy romantic comedies the drama club insisted on presenting every spring. He loved the rush of performing and the grit of having to work with others for that play to turn out right.

He glanced over at Garig. The only acting he’d get to do now would be to appear to be interested in what was going on. Another player strolled into the room. Not a grip or a camera man. Kris studied the new guy. Young and very eager. The kid practically bounced over to the director.

Who? Kris heard the director ask. Oh. Over there. You know what to do.

The kid crossed the room and stood in front of Kris. He didn’t say anything, just stared at him.

Hello. Kris backed away from the guy. What do you want?

I’m your fluffer. The guy batted his eyelashes. His brown eyes twinkled. I’m supposed to get you ready.

Yeah. Kris backed up another foot. No. I’m fine. I’ll manage.

How else am I supposed to learn about this business if I don’t work my way up?

Who are you again? Kris asked.

Fain. The guy crinkled his nose. Rhymes with vain. I’m not, but you know. It’s catchy. He chewed on his bottom lip, accentuating the piercing and small patch of hair growing below his lip. I’m old enough to be here. I’m twenty-two.

Well, Fain, thanks but no thanks. I don’t need…fluffing. Kris sidestepped Fain and stood beside the bed. He prided himself on not needing help in the bedroom. He might not be interested in the partner he was about to fuck, but he had a good enough bank of mental images to pull from to get him through.

Fain, I need you back here. The director yanked Fain out of the way. Garig, you stroll in from this door and Kris, I want you waiting on the bed. Go for the come hither look. You’re ready, you’re willing, but he’s got to come to you.

That’s my motivation? Kris asked and snorted. He bit back another sigh. Damn, this was getting old. He stretched out on the mattress and crossed his ankles. He propped himself up on one elbow. I’m ready.

Garig? The director jumped behind the camera and snapped the clapper bar. Where are you?

Ready. Garig grinned from the doorway. Whenever you are.

Kris freed his mind of his problems and focused on the film. Get it done and get out of there. He smiled at Garig. I see you’ve found your way in.

What’s a guy like you see in a guy like me? Garig asked. He shrugged out of the vest. Tell me.

A horny bastard. Kris grabbed Garig’s hand. He blocked out the actual act of licking Garig’s dick and hole. He feigned interest in Garig’s job of sucking him to erect. Maybe he was screwing himself over, but he could’ve called the scene in. He donned the rubber, then dribbled lube over Garig’s ass. In seconds he was inside and thrusting.

Kris didn’t actually count the minutes, but he’d be willing to guess the director wasn’t getting enough shots by the amount of cursing going on in the background.

God damn it. You know there’s going to be music, but I swear you’re pissing me off intentionally, Kris. The director snapped the clapper board. Cut. He directed his frustration at Kris. I need better close-ups. You look more like you’re going to be sick than that you’re enjoying this.

Maybe I’m not. Kris rested his hands on his hips. Sorry.

No, you’re not, the director replied, his tone flat.

I’m not, but hold up. Isn’t this flick actually supposed to be about Garig and his…journey? The viewer wants to see things from his perspective and be in his position. I’ll get more into this, but you should focus on him more. Kris nodded, as if the gesture would convince the director to go along with his line of thinking.

You’re a dick. The director wiped the sweat off his brow. Fine. But act more like you’re getting off on what he’s doing.

I will, Kris said, not really meaning his words. He’d done a piss-poor job of portraying his interest. Damn. He’d have to really focus if he wanted to come across as at least a little excited. He stroked his dick, then swatted Garig’s ass. Soon, he’d be done taking his clothes off for money. Soon.

Half an hour later, the director yelled cut for the last time. I’ve got what I need to get this film done. Next time, Garig, don’t act quite so cartoony and Kris—try to want to be here. That’s a wrap.

Kris darted into the bathroom to ditch the rubber and clean up. He tossed the used condom into the waste bin, then wetted a washcloth with warm water. He stared at himself in the mirror as the water heated up. The lines around his eyes had deepened a bit more and he noticed two strands of gray hair at his temples. Fuck. He wasn’t allowed to look old yet.

So. Garig stood behind him and made faces in the mirror. You’re never going to bottom? Ever?

Nope. He cleaned off his dick, happy to get the grime of the shoot off his body. Still, the quick wipe-down wasn’t enough. He switched on the water in the shower. He’d have to hurry if he wanted to make his next appointment, but he’d manage.

Why? Garig sobered. Seriously. The viewers want to see you bottom. He tapped the glass shower panel. They want you to beg someone else to fuck you.

I don’t want to and I don’t have to, so I’m not going to. Besides, he needed to control the action. When he allowed himself to let go, bad things happened. He lathered his body, then rinsed. Thank God, he’d been given a decent head of hair. Wash and go actually fit his style and worked for him.

You’d make so much more money if you’d at least go bare. I’m clean. You can fuck me all you want, but bareback. Hell, you’re the cleanest-cut guy in the herd. I’d let you fuck me any day.

I’d rather not. I’m doing well with the plan I’ve got going, Kris said and turned off the water. He grabbed the nearest towel. I’m happy and that’s what matters.

Garig stepped into a pair of boxer shorts. You’re lying.

Kris left the bathroom and headed back to the living room for his bag. I’m not. Not completely. He’d faked his way through the shoot and pretended to be interested when he’d been given the assignment to do the film. Maybe he was lying—to himself.

Dude, this job is about pleasing the fans and making money. You’re being ignorant. You could not only win awards for your performances, but rake in the dough. Garig plopped onto the couch. Serious. You need to take the next step.

No. He slid his boxers and jeans on, then wrestled into his socks.

Why? Are you still actually thinking about going straight? You know studios won’t hire ex-porn stars. We’re not bankable and too risky. The public wants us to be having sex, not trying to date the girl-next-door. Garig crossed his legs and propped his feet on the coffee table. Truth.

I’m an actor, not a porn star. Kris yanked his shirt down over his head and stuck his arms through the sleeves. He finger-combed his hair. I’m getting out of here.

Out of the business or the house? The house, I’m sure. The business? Garig asked. "Not gonna happen. You’re so not an actor."

Kris rolled his eyes and picked up his bag. He’d left his cowboy boots in the bedroom. Once he retrieved the footwear, he left the apartment. He shivered. After each shoot, he needed a shower to wash off the ick.

One day, he chanted. One day. He hurried down to his car, then slid behind the wheel. If he made all the green lights and didn’t get stuck in traffic, he’d make it to the casting call on time.

Half an hour later, he pulled into a parking spot in front of the Liberty Studios building. He’d been to the building half a dozen times for various other roles. Of the fifty parts he’d gone out for, he’d landed one. The role of pilot number three in a war flick. Unfortunately for him, he’d ended up on the cutting room floor. Not a great way to start a career in serious film.

He dug through his bag for the script. The call today was for a guy in his late twenties with a dark past. He had to portray grief and sadness while staying cool and collected. His backstory included being assaulted and hardened by life. Kris glanced at his reflection in the rearview mirror. If he combed his hair forward and knotted his eyebrows, he could pull off intensity. He knew how it felt to grow up angry. He owned that role.

You can do this, he muttered to himself. You can absolutely do this. Kris climbed out of his car and locked the vehicle, then headed into the building. He signed in. The receptionist told him where to wait. His hands shook and he wished he’d brought mints. Twenty other guys just like him waited too. He held the script in his hands, crinkling the paper.

He’d never know if he could move beyond porn if he didn’t put himself out there. Who knew? He might actually land the role, or even a guy who liked him for more than his body. Wishing for all that was a little much, but fuck it. Time to find out if he was ready to leave his past behind him and move forward with his life.

* * * *

Zayn slapped his notebook shut. Christ. He’d seen nearly fifty actors already and didn’t believe he’d spotted one that would even remotely fit the role. He gathered the stack of dossiers on the rest of the actors coming in. He’d spent the last fifteen years in the movie